If Things Were Different
by magdalena2122
Summary: Hermione sneaks out after the Yule Ball, in search of some clarity. She doesn't find it. Instead, she finds Malfoy. Just when she thought her night couldn't get any worse... A glimpse of what could be if things were different.


_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to. It all belongs to J.K. Rowling._

Hermione Granger, in a very uncharacteristic move, had snuck out of her dormitory and wandered down to the Hogwarts grounds. Taking a seat on a bench in the fairy-lit rose garden, she pressed her hands over her face. She didn't know whether to cry or scream. Either would be a reaction of frustration over how the night's events had played out. _The Yule Ball_. It was supposed to have been an exquisite evening. She had a gorgeous blue dress that flattered her figure quite nicely, she had tamed her normally crazy hair into a sleek, elegant up-do, and she had, as her date, the guy that every girl at Hogwarts (and Beauxbatons, and probably the rest of the Quidditch-following world, for that matter) wanted a piece of: Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Seeker.

"When did things start to go so terribly wrong?" she murmured aloud. She sighed loudly, and began to reason with herself. "But then again, maybe I'm overreacting. No, of _course_ I'm not overreacting! Ron's a bloody git!" With that last word, her arms flew up into the air, as if to punctuate it.

Hermione was frustrated beyond all reason because, as usual, Ronald Weasley was being as dense as… Well, as dense as normal. In typical Ron fashion, he had neglected to take anybody else's feelings into consideration before taking action. Completely disregarding the fact that the two of them had shared an unspoken mutual interest since first year, he had waited until the last minute to ask Hermione to accompany him to the Yule Ball. But by then, she already had a date. _Viktor. _She sighed as the name echoed over her jumbled thoughts.She couldn't deny that she found him attractive on more than one level. So naturally, when he had asked her out, she found herself quite willing to oblige.

That was the next source of frustration. She felt so guilty, being interested in a guy other than Ron. For the past several years, she had grown accustomed to the idea that they would eventually end up dating one another. Now, as new feelings were being awakened in her, many of those feelings directed at other guys, she didn't know what to think.

Each day, she was finding herself becoming more and more of a young woman. In addition, she was finding herself more and more attracted to the boys around her whom were turning into young men. _Viktor... Ron... Seamus Finnegan... The Ravenclaw who sits in front of me in Charms... And hell, even though I hate him, I have to admit that Draco—_

But before she could finish that altogether horrifying thought, the real Draco Malfoy had manifested himself in front of her. _Speak of the devil._ One corner of her mouth lifted slightly as she made that comparison in her head. As he approached, she dropped her eyes to the ground, pretending to ignore him. _Just when I thought the night couldn't get worse, _he_ has to pop up and ruin it a little more._

"What the hell are you doing out here?" Draco demanded.

Hermione took a deep breath and summoned her remaining strength for the battle that was about to take place. "I would think that a _pureblood_ of your stature would be clever enough to deduce that on your own," she said clearly, raising her eyes to meet his.

To her surprise, he plopped down beside her on the bench, loosening his tie. "Forget it Granger, I'm too exhausted to fight with you tonight. And seeing as every other bench out here has already been claimed by amorous couples… Well, let's just say that you're going to have to tolerate me for the time being." Draco glanced sideways at her, arching one eyebrow.

"And what if I don't wish to 'tolerate' you? I was here first!" Hermione raised an eyebrow of her own in mockery.

Draco ran a hand through his blond hair as he leaned back into the bench. "Look, I know we don't exactly have the best track record. But I've had a perfectly horrid evening, and from the looks of it, so have you. And they say that misery loves company, right?" He smirked, because that was just what Malfoys did when they didn't know what else to do.

_Okay, Hermione, think... Bloody hell, this is not happening! What does he think he's doing, making himself comfortable like that?_ Next to her, Draco cast a cushioning charm on the bench to make it softer. _Well, I guess that does make it more pleasant to sit on. But why is he being so nice to me? _Her curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione squared her shoulders and cleared her throat slightly. "Alright, fine. You can sit here. But I want to know why your evening was so horrid."

He was silent for a moment, staring up at a fairy that was flying past. After a bit, he drew his eyes downward, and allowed them to meet Hermione's. "I don't really know how to put it. In a nutshell, Pansy's a stupid bint," he stated simply.

"That's it? That's your terrible evening? Your discovery that Parkinson is an imbecile?" Her words were shaky, as she was trying to hold back laughter. "I could have told you that first year, and saved you all of this time!"

Draco smirked again. "So what's got _your_ knickers in a twist? You went to the ball with Krum, and you actually clean up pretty well, at least for a mu… muggle-born." He cringed slightly, anticipating her reaction to his slip-up.

Instead of blowing up at him, Hermione cocked her head to the side and showed him a smirk that rivaled his own. "Nice save there, Malfoy. Seriously, why are you being so civil with me? I don't know that I believe the story about misery loving company," she responded, staring him squarely in the face.

He shifted in his seat and pressed his eyes shut for a moment. "Honestly, I don't know. When I saw you sitting on this bench, my first instinct was to make some snide comment. But then I realized that the expression on your face mirrored what was going on inside my head, and…" Draco hesitated for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. "And I didn't want to be mean to you after that. I just wanted to talk to somebody who might understand the whole feeling thing, and you looked like you might understand," he finished awkwardly.

"'The whole feeling thing,'" she repeated slowly, smiling. After briefly considering his monologue, she had decided that she would let the conversation progress, at least for the time being. "You obviously don't talk about emotions very often, do you?" Hermione turned in her seat to face Draco better. _Wow, am I about to have a heart-to-heart with Draco Malfoy, of all people?_

"No. I really don't. They don't raise pureblood children to feel much of anything," Draco responded, almost bitterly. "Well, besides things like intolerance, of course."

Hermione studied his expression for a moment before commenting. Finally she asked, "Are you saying that you don't buy into all that anymore?"

After a brief hesitation, he answered, "To be perfectly honest, I'm starting to question a lot of things that I was taught growing up. And, as weird as it might sound, _you_ are actually part of the reason for it. Maybe that's why I wanted to talk to you tonight," he mused, staring down at his hands and fiddling with his wand.

When he looked back up, he realized that Hermione was gaping at him. "You _cannot_ be serious! Come on now, Malfoy. I'm not stupid!" she exclaimed indignantly.

"I _know_ you're not stupid. That's what I'm talking about," he started to explain. "My entire life, I've always been the best at whatever I decided to do. At least, until I came to Hogwarts and met you. With the sole exception of Quidditch, you are my prime competition at everything. _Everything_, Granger! And on top of that, you don't even come from a wizarding family! You're bloody muggle-born, and you're just as good as me, a pureblood." Draco trailed off, and leaned back into the bench.

She sat for a moment, dazed. _Did he just say that I'm as good as him?_ "Did you just say that I'm as good as you?" she finally asked aloud, bewildered.

Draco let out a soft chuckle. "Yes. Yes, I did. My father would murder me, and anybody else would send me straight to St. Mungo's if they heard it, but I did say it." He looked at her with a sincerity he usually saved only for his mother. "That's the reason I've started to question all that I was taught: you," he spoke quietly, but assertively.

Hermione was still stunned from his admission. Her thoughts were winding through her mind, racing a kilometer a minute. _I think it's a safe bet that my night can't get any more eventful than this. _"Forgive me, Malfoy, but I don't really know what to say about all of this," she said simply.

He nodded slowly. "I suppose that's reasonable. I don't really know what to say either. This was definitely not on the itinerary for the evening." He put away the wand that he had been fidgeting with the entire time. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Hermione completely. "I understand if you don't believe me. I don't know if I would believe me. But I am telling you the truth right now. I'm not asking to be your friend; I know that, given the circumstances, anything of the sort is out of the question. Just know that I hate you for your friends, and not for your lineage," he joked, flashing the trademark Malfoy smirk.

She was glad for the lightening of the mood. She smiled, and met his eyes. "They're not so bad, Harry and Ron." As the name "Ron" left her lips, she scowled a bit, recalling her earlier frustration.

Draco burst out laughing. "The weasel will come around. And if he doesn't, he's a right git for it."

In spite of herself, Hermione laughed along with him. "You think so?"

"He'd be a git not to." He repeated, then his tone sobered. "I mean it, Granger. If things were different…"

She felt her breath hitch in her throat as the meaning of his words hit her. "If things were different?" she prompted softly. _What _if_ things were different? What am I getting myself into here? We shouldn't even be talking to each other, but…_ Her thoughts trailed off as he opened his mouth to answer.

"If things were different, then it wouldn't be a problem for me to do this." At that, he lifted a hand to her face, slowly tracing her jawline with a single finger. As he reached her chin, he gently tilted it up toward him. _He's going to kiss me. He's going to bloody kiss me. What do I do?_ Without giving her a chance to protest, he pressed his lips against hers.

Hermione felt herself relaxing into an embrace with Draco Malfoy, her enemy, and she didn't care. For one moment, reality didn't matter to either of them, because they both let their guard down. For one moment, they weren't on Hogwarts grounds, and they weren't members of opposing houses. For one moment, they were just a guy and a girl, sharing a kiss.

And then, the moment passed. The kiss ended, and they sat silently staring at one another. After an extended pause, Hermione broke the silence. "But things aren't different." Her words were matter-of-fact.

"I know they're not." Draco rose from the bench and straightened his velvet dress robes. He started to take a step away, but stopped. Turning back, he looked her in the eye and said, "But maybe someday they will be. Until then, my dear." He gave a little bow, and then he strode away, disappearing behind a row of rose bushes.

Hermione was left sitting on the bench by herself again. Slowly, she got to her feet, and started off towards the entrance hall._ Clearly, I passed judgment too soon. I'd better call it a night before things get any _more_ eventful… Unbelievable! First Viktor, then Ron, and now Malfoy? Maybe I should straighten my hair more often… _She began the climb up to Gryffindor tower, and her thoughts took a different turn_. I wonder what would happen if things _were_ different?_

As she reached the portrait hole and uttered the password to the very drunken Fat Lady, "Fairy lights," she pushed these thoughts out of her head. _ It doesn't matter. Because things_ aren't_ different. Nothing has changed, really. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and it will all be like a dream. _She climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory, and fell onto her bed, still clothed for the ball. _Tomorrow morning, I'll wake up and Malfoy and I will be enemies again._ Quickly, she drifted off to sleep, and dreamed of a story that could only be told if things were different.


End file.
